Flame to the Fyre Chronicles 2:The Fear of Flying
by sakhara291
Summary: Keayalnea is the Zenith of SphynxFyre, sideways shunted all her life, distrusted and disowned. She is convinced that no one will love her until Lord Voldemort is dead. Is she right? SS/ OC
1. Prelude and Rondo

[A/N- read Black Blood FIRST. I'm just jumping straight into this and I'm not giving explanations of everything, anymore than what fits in the story. If you want, call it a sequel, it's more of a seperate perspective in the following time frame. It's also where my mind and my plot problems are, so I'm just jumping in and letting Kea tell me where she wants to go.... any suggestions on the rough spots would be great. Also, I am dropping my 'don't mess up the official plotline' motto. I can't see Kea playing it that way, but as books come out, I'll probably fix things.]

_"All of my dreams are lost in space_

_I don't know why I left that place_

_Once I was lost now I can see_

_What's inside of you once was inside of me_

_All of my dreams are gone I know_

_So tell me how badly does it show?_

_Lost in the darkness there's a light_

_but space has left me weightless so I'll put up a fight"_

_- Kat McCoy, Lost in Space_

Keayalnea slammed into the headquarters, her flaming red hair streaked with mud and rain, her wings dull and matted, a painful slice taken out of her left cheek, following the bone, and almost cutting to the muscle. Her eyes were bloodshot, the right was blackened and almost swollen shut, the bags underneath her right one adding ten years to her appearance. The dark colors contrasted severely with her amber irises and pale skin. Her lower lip was sliced open, blood dripping freely down her chin and onto her black tank top, with all the visible skin covered by raw, red scratches, most of which had grazed the skin, and some of which had drawn blood. She slammed her hand into the doorway using the wood as a grip to keep her upright as she tried to force a semblance of normality. She felt the cold chill down her spine as the charm took effect, hiding her physical wounds. She made no attempt on the dirt. It would look horrible if the Zenith of SphynxFyre was immaculate when she came to report. Image was everything, everything. The Order trusted her, but that trust was placed in Sinia. Not her, never her. She ground her teeth silently at the thought. Sinia had lead a cursed life, true. Sinia had proven herself strong, but Keayalnea was the stranger, whose strength was proven in words, never seen in actions. _Damn White Blood!_ she screamed mentally, berating herself with the pain. White Blood. She knew the definition- self serving, egotistical, power hungry. Lacking in restraint or tact. She was the Zenith, for sakes! The first White Blood Zenith in the history of SphynxFyre! They'd denied her enrollment at Hogwarts for her blood. She'd raised herself from the age of four, taking and using and spitting out muggles and wizards so that she, herself, could live. She'd learned the old spells, the histories, the strengths and subtleties of her kind from the last wizard who'd known them. She'd resisted, and mentally forced all other Sorcery blood to condemn Voldemort's actions, even when he'd come to the only Black Blood among them, seeking her power or elimination. She dealt fair. She'd condemned her race, but wisdom and common sense told her that they had no hope, whatever happened, Sorcery Blood was to end. There were only a handful of them left. When she first became part of SphynxFyre, there'd been at least fifty. She blamed herself, not that her leadership skills were lacking, but she felt she'd ill- prepared her fellows for the trials they'd faced. She blinked in the darkness, looking at the clock. The information she had could wait till the meeting.... this morning. There was a light on in the kitchen, but she assumed no one would be awake at this hour. It was damp and muggy, smelled and felt late. She walked as though to go upstairs, but stopped at the couch on the living room, suddenly loosing the will that had kept her awake and fighting for the past week. She crashed, somewhat noisily, into the dusty couch, ignoring any creatures that she might be disturbing, lying on one wing while using the other as a pillow. She felt the appearance charms melt off of her skin as she drifted into an exhausted sleep.

He'd heard her open the door and walk in, heard the effort she'd expelled dragging herself as far as the couch. He finished his cup of coffee slowly, restless and thoughtful. When the last drop was drained, he walked into the living room, shutting the door she'd left open, then turning to look at her face. He'd been trained well enough to feel the extent of her injuries, and they were severe. He walked over to sit next to her on the couch, recalling the method Tiyrn had trained him in. He ran the tips of his fingers lightly over the deep slice on her cheek, feeling it slowly close under his touch. He held her lower lip gently between his thumb and forefinger, closing the gap where it was split in half. The black eye was a little bit trickier. He willed the capillaries to close, to heal, absorbing the blood they had spilt into the skin, and the worried flesh to repair and reconnect itself. He traced the scratches and bruises on her neck and arms in the same fashion, slowly and deliberately. Once he was through, he pulled a blanket off the arm of the couch, and covered her gently, brushing her hair out of her eyes before he went upstairs.

[A/N- yup, who is this guy? I'm probably going to post again, but I'm not telling you until someone guesses right! MwaHahaha!]


	2. Admission of Parentage

_"We came out from the deep_

_To help and understand, _

_But not to kill._

_It takes many lives to succeed_

_To clear the debts of many, many hundred years."_

_-Enigma, Second Chapter_

Keayalnea woke, sensing immediately that she could drift back into another ten hours of sleep. It was barely light outside, and the clock on the wall read six thirty in the morning. She groaned inwardly, reaching up to gauge the severity of her black eye, only to find it gone. She felt her lip and her cheek... nothing. Appearance- wise, she couldn't sense any injury. Her bruised rib was still aching, slightly, but it was mostly healed to begin with. There was a blanket thrown over her, too. Considerate, with the chill in the downstairs rooms. Her mind roamed back to last night. _So,_ she wondered. _Who was in the kitchen?_ Well, whoever they were, she was grateful. She threw off the cover and stood, stretching, her arms raised above her head and her back arched, revealing her stomach where the tank top couldn't cover. She shook herself and walked up the stairs, cautious of the curtained painting, and slid into the room that Sirius and Sinia shared, where she kept her trunk for her infrequent visits. The two of them were snuggled close in the wide bed, almost completely hidden by the comforter, and sleeping peacefully. She smiled quietly, not so much a change in her face as a change in her eyes, as she rummaged through her trunk, grabbing a pair of comfortable jeans and a basic red blouse. She envied Sinia's happiness. Love was not an emotion she'd ever felt, and happiness was a rarity. Her Patronus was based on hopes for the future; the past had beaten hope out of her present. She stepped into the third story bathroom, locking the door behind her, as was her custom, and peeling off the black tank top and red leather pants, surveying the damage in the mirror. Most of the bruises had paled yellow and green, simple and effortless to conceal, but still slightly painful. She flipped on the hot water and adjusted it, measuring her wings in the corner of her eye. They had healed well, a few months of regrowing feathers had made it unnecessary for her to conceal the bloody mess she'd come back with, giving Tiyrn the near impossible task of repairing two wings, nearly every ligament snapped, at least five of the structural bones shattered. Tiyrn was exceptional at what he did, and not even a full year after the incident she had full range of motion, and the muscles were starting to rebuild. She stepped into the shower, shuddering slightly as the hot water cascaded down her body, building a pair of sensations she hadn't felt in a while- cleanliness, and safety. Sure, Lucius let her shower when he was done with her, but he couldn't see her wings, and he had a tendency to jump her while she was vulnerable, so she was never fully clean. She smiled slightly, forcefully rubbing shampoo into her hair. Keayalnea Nikonde and Lucius Malfoy. She harbored no silly fantasies about the man; she was posing as a good northern Irish whore to get news on Voldemort. Their ultimate plans were not quite decided. But still... in any other situation, or set of, she and Lucius were quite well matched, at least sexually. He was as sadistic as she was, on the rare occasions where he allowed her to get her licks in, and when she left, it was on one of his games of sport, where he would find her and 'punish' her accordingly. Nothing turned him on like a struggling red head, it was the sorry truth, and if she could allow herself to become attracted to him, he was absolutely delicious as a lover, provided you weren't looking for cuddly and romantic. She rinsed out the shampoo, spitting out the sudsy water as she laughed. _Enough!_ she mentally slapped herself. _The sex isn't_ that g_ood! _She sighed quickly and took the bar of soap to her wings, reangling them and herself to get every last bit of filth off her whitish- gold feathers. The water was running a murky brown, and where sunlight hit the clean feathers, rainbows reflected on the walls. Done with those, she paid attention to her own skin, scrubbing furiously. She levitated her razor out of the cupboard and began shaving her legs, careful of the nicks and scratches that would be gone in a few days, as well as under her arms. She ran conditioner through her hair as well as a little through her feathers, rinsing it out before she doused the water to cold, she stood there for a moment, letting the cold revitalize her, then turned it off. She levitated one of the smaller towels toward her, wrapping her hair in it, then shook the water out of her wings while she reached for a larger towel to dry herself off. Finished with that, she began to dress, the black jeans stretching to fit her long legs, the red blouse buttoned in such a way as to amplify what cleavage she had. _It's not the size, it's what you do with them,_ she praised herself mentally, towel- drying her flaming red hair until it hung around her face, ending at her jaw line. The sunlight glittered off of it like fire. She smiled as she appraised herself in the mirror, whisking away the dark circles to something manageable with a light spell. She slid on a pair of comfortable sandals, and walked downstairs, noting the clock on the wall. She had thirty minutes before that morning's meeting. Once in the kitchen, she reached for the coffee pot, and pored herself a mug, while helping herself to a muffin in the process. Molly gave her a sidelong glance that could freeze a lesser being, but Keayalnea took it in stride, sitting at the breakfast table with all the others. The three youngest children gave her sidelong looks as she wiggled into the edge of conversation with the other adults. She ignored them, biting into her muffin as she listened to the gist of conversation.

"So it's myself, Alastor, Tonks, Kingsley, Hestia, Sturgis, Elphias, Dedalus, and Emmeline," Remus, stated, looking over his notes.

"It feels like too many, Remus," Sirius growled slightly, looking into his empty mug.

"Just because you can't go everywhere doesn't mean you can complain about everything," Sinia chided him gently. "it's nine, a solid number and strong magic. Though it does seem like quite a bit, going after a single boy... good morning, Kea."

"Good morning," Kea replied, having been forced into the conversation too quickly. "Who's rescue is it you're plotting, Remus?"

"Harry Potter's, though I doubt you've heard about the dementors' attack in English suburbia?"

"Actually, I did." She sipped her coffee, watching Remus look her in the eyes, proving his goodwill with a small smile. "I'm to understand he has a court date?"

"Twelfth of August. Albus thought it would be wise to bring him here."

"And I refuse to do so without a full guard," Alastor spoke harshly, both his eyes boring into Keayalnea's. It was an open challenge, and she was not dense enough to miss it.

"I certainly do not contest that, Alastor. I would almost demand a double guard, were the circumstances not so.... how are you traveling?"

"Broomsticks, Kea. What else is there?" Alastor seemed somewhat angered by the question.

"Tonight will be a clear night, Alastor, the atmospheric pressure is pushing the cloud cover north. It is not worth my rank and Sinia's blood combined to push it back."

"What do you recommend we do? _Slide?_"

"You could take a taxi. That's one way to disappear completely unnoticed."

"Neighbors."

"Well, they'll see you coming and leaving anyway, Alastor, it may as well be something they understand!"

"Too much wait, too long, too expensive, and none of us have the skills in the Muggle world to do so," Remus replied softly, looking at his notes. "You're giving us the same arguments we've been having amongst ourselves for a month. And neither Sinia nor you can leave. Sinia's exiled, and Albus made it plain that once you are here, you stay. He hinted on an attack on the Order." 

Keayalnea's expression was unreadable. "Do what you want, but be careful," she sighed, consenting to what they saw as the inevitable. She had no great forebodings on the journey, so she was not argumentative on the matter. Alastor noted this silently, and filed it away in reference. He knew that the loyalties of the god- like strengths of White Blooded Keayalnea Nikonde lay with whatever would keep herself, and her race, alive longest, and mistrusted her for it, because she'd chosen wrongly denying Voldemort. He didn't know if personal ethics had gotten in the way... pride, jealousy, any number of emotions. The truth being, SphynxFyre was openly mistrusted by the Order of the Phoenix. Voldemort would have enfolded and upraised it. Kea was not foolish. Alastor did not dare underestimate her cunning, her definitive self control, her independence. SphynxFyre would follow her unquestioningly in the loyalties she chose, and he couldn't help but wonder if her loyalties were elsewhere. Dumbledore would know his reserves tonight. 

"Good morning, Keayalnea, Sinia," Albus Dumbledore said graciously, sitting across the table from Keayalnea, setting his steaming tea down as he greeted each plotter in turn. "Kea," he drew her attention firmly, and she knew their meeting was underway. "What do we know?"

"Voldemort can't get his hands on the prophecy, he's tearing through every possibility and removing a number of death eaters from our troubles in the process. No big names." She held up her hand to stop the question, taking another gulp of coffee before continuing. "I traced Histalni's life the best I could. I've found the right circles, but the information comes slowly. When she left her apprenticeship, she moved into a one bedroom complex with a Muggle- born wizard, a strong one, just out of Hogwarts. He went by the name Tom Marvolo Riddle." She gulped coffee again, using her own flair for dramatics. "They were never legally hand fasted, but they did go through Sorcery channels and she was Saved within a year of their moving in together. Within two years, Tom began showing the signs that would later turn him into Lord Voldemort. Histalni was Silver Blood, you know. I can guess roughly that one main trait of that blood is unquestioning devotion. She became pregnant. At this point she knew he was using her strengths for his dishonorable plots, but didn't wish to risk the life of her child to her father's maniacal greed. She fled, and spent the next nine months moving repetitively to hide from him. When she petitioned SphynxFyre, they denied her aid..."

"That explains the abrupt change in dealings with the Saved, then," Albus interjected.

"Yes, though it's unfortunate. We could have caught him in the beginning."

"No trouble worth turning the threads of fate, Kea."

"I know. She gave birth to twins, both female, one Black Blood and one White. She could only keep one, under the circumstances. The rest of the story is irrelevant."

"You and Sinia."

"Sinia and myself, actually. She's older by almost ten minutes."

"Does she know?"

"I intend to inform her privately, later this afternoon."

"This could very well change her mind on the mission we're setting on her, Kea."

"I know," she stood, shoving her chair back into the table. "This is old magic, Albus, and not to be tread with lightly. At least we have other options."

"To take the magic he used and use it against him," Albus shook his head slowly. "You are young, my dear, and ruthless."

"If you'll excuse me, Albus, what else can I be?" She turned to walk away, then turned back. "I assume you'll want my report as well as Severus's tonight?"

"Both, yes," he nodded, his blue eyes indescribably sad. "Mary Magdalene."

"That would be my mother, in this situation. Perhaps I am Lucifer, in my methods. But more as, call me Moses, the dangerously devoted followed by those too afraid to ask otherwise."


	3. Distrust and Slavery

[A/N- alright, I'VE FIGURED OUT HOW TO MAKE THIS WORK. Update one, update the other, update one.... god I hate blocks...]

_"Large in the margin_

_My drama unfolds behind closed doors_

_Told on the down-low_

_I believe that I'm so but really, I don't know_

_Maybe it's better, but I can't think so_

_Maybe its better to fight, one never ever knows_

_Believe the rumors that grow like tumors_

_More fun than the truth that we know"_

_- 311, Large in the Margin_

Keayalnea sat at her place, flanked by Alicianne and Sinia, the more involved members of SphynxFyre, watching witches and wizards file into the meeting room, first more quickly, then ebbing away to nothing.

"They're late," Kea stated, looking Albus dead in the eye. They were on opposite ends of the table.

"No doubt with good reason, Keayalnea," the statement was flat, knowing she would not let it go.

Uncharacteristically of her, she did. A few minutes later, the nine that had gone on the "rescue mission" walked in and filed into their respective seats. Dumbledore pushed his chair back and stood.

"We can account for all those not present. Let the meeting begin. Two of our best spies have returned to us to report tonight, and I believe both of them have vital information for us. Severus, please begin." With those words, he sat back down.

Severus rose slowly, feigning recent injuries. Keayalnea bit her lip so as not to make audible disbelief- he did not give off the aura of one under any recent, intense physical pain. She could see traces of white surrounding him, evident of Cruciatus still impairing him somewhat, but nowhere near to the extent he feigned. His mental health was whirling in dangerous blacks and reds. She knew quite well that his sanity and self- acceptance were bought by a very full pensieve. "It is as we suspected- that Voldemort can only reach the prophecy by having Harry Potter bring it to him, or getting it himself. He's tearing through death eaters he does not trust at the moment, lower ranks, to think of a way. Polyjuice transformations have not worked. Levitation, object apparation, and transfiguring the prophecy have not availed. He has even considered abducting Sorcery Blood to learn to Slide, and has sent me to research the subject." He raised an eyebrow to Keayalnea.

"If he could summon the strength to go so far, he'd be caught," she looked him in the eye. "Sliding is a one way trip, and he would have to apparate home." She didn't feel like wasting breath on the obvious. You couldn't apparate in the Department of Mysteries.

He nodded. "It has been brought up that I could kidnap or force the Imperius curse on Mr. Potter. I have been able to convince Voldemort otherwise."

There was an audible cringe at the name.

"Thank you, Severus," at Dumbledore's voice, the professor/ repented death eater sat. "Keayalnea?"

She didn't dare stand. They didn't trust her as it was. She clasped her hands in front of her, and looked over at Severus. "I have heard most of the same things, but the sliding theory... is he in earnest?"

Snape nodded.

"It can't be done. I have references on the matter that, given time, you could get ahold of. Remind me to give them to you. Everything else that he's said, with some variation, I've heard."

"Any that ring differently?"

"No, but the whole of my research lies along different lines. The magic bind we're trying to force on Voldemort may have strange effects, I'd need more information to be accurate on what they are."

"You are researching lineage, correct?" Kingsley asked, next to her, he understood the most old and earth magic. "Of Histalni Jekinart and Tom Riddle?"

"It began, twelve years ago," she nodded slightly, "as a need to disprove Voldemort's claim of Sorcery Blood. If there is any within him, I can look you in the face and say that Tom Riddle was not a half breed, not even a quarter. But," all her breath was thrown into that word, "he did have a relationship with a Sorceress shortly after leaving Hogwarts. Histalni, in fact. They were wed by Sorcery custom, but never legally. Shortly after she conceived, she left him, out of fear for her child." One more deep breath. She hadn't told Sinia. "She bore twins- Sinia and myself."

Tight- lipped silence filled the room. Sinia's face went a shade paler.

"So," Kingsley sat back, stunned. "You are Voldemort's _daughter_? But the magical implications-"

"My father's name was Tom Riddle, Kingsley, and if they share a body, I'll survive the knowledge, but I will never call them the same man. My mother certainly did not," Keayalnea bit her lip to keep from becoming to defensive.

"Does he know about this information?" Tonks's voice was barely audible.

"I'd say not. It's something to keep an ear out for. The timing says she left in her first trimester, so it wouldn't have been obvious."

"I'll keep an ear open for you," Severus offered.

"Thank you," she smiled slightly.

"Which brings me, Albus, to some reserves I'd like to voice," Alastor stood slowly, and Keayalnea was not blind to his magical eye staring directly at her.

"Alastor," Dumbledore's voice was very soft. "This would be better spoken of in private..."

Click.

"Let him speak, Albus," Keayalnea's voice was poisonously sweet. "I can tell you what he intends to say. That he doubts the loyalties of SphynxFyre... mine, in particular. That I've caused ruin to my own kind's survival by siding with the Order, and he believes that I would double cross the Order, and none of SphynxFyre, being lambs at the slaughter of my own will, would contest my decision." She had stood in the process of this speech, and turned her eyes to glare directly into his. "Correct?"

"Astute of you," he replied, nodding.

"Asshole," she snarled, "my kind always has been. Perhaps no one informed you that the decision to align with the Order was made by the strength of SphynxFyre as a whole, not by myself alone. I leaned heavily toward this decision, yes, but I was not the one who decided. Perhaps, Alastor, we would survive longer under Voldemort's rule, if by surviving you mean drawing breath and bearing offspring. There is one thing I will not subject my race to, that I would watch them be destroyed before it would occur. And that would be to make them breeding stock. _Again_." Her knuckles were white where she was grasping the table in anger, and it took all of her restraint to remain coherent and not begin screaming bloody outrage. "I knew before I took this position that the odds were against Sorcery Blood surviving another generation. I have been free with this information and SphynxFyre agrees as a whole to follow me wherever I see fit to lead them. The point now is honor, not survival. According to you, I have none. So excuse me, I believe I should give your fears some general grounds." With that, she began to stride quickly out of the room.

"Keayalnea, you do not dare!" Albus was out of his seat, using all of his force and energy, but he knew that few things impressed a livid White Blood.

"I dare? I DARE, Albus! Where have you gotten off telling me, telling us, what to do for the past three months? Where have you gotten off ordering us around, us who are not under your control! You and I are EQUALS in this shit you've started, but I have yet to tell you what to do. You tell me, you tell ME!" With that, she slammed a chair across the room toward Albus, who barely managed to push it out of the way. "Maybe the biggest mistake I've made in my years is this, that I respected you. Or that I thought you respected me." With that she slammed the door back open and shut behind her, and silence ensued as they listened to her crash out of the house. 

"I'd hoped that problem would be resolved during my absence," Albus sat back down, wearily.

"You see why I don't like her, sir, with a temperament like that," Molly Weasley stated, unsure how to respond to that outburst.

"How long has that been building?" Dumbledore raised his eyes to look in Sinia's. There was an uncomfortable ruffle of wings.

"Ever since you sent her to spy on Malfoy," Alicianne responded, shocking the group. Most had never heard her speak. "It has been building for the full three months."

Dumbledore nodded. "Do not, any of you, doubt in the SphynxFyre, as I have faith in every single soul they have left to them, and we need their aid more than I'd like to admit. This open... and hidden," his very pointed looks were aimed mainly at Molly and Alastor, "animosity toward them is far too rampant for my liking. They are facing worse circumstances than anyone here, and things only look darker for them every moment. Wizard remedies can't heal them, and the only person who knows successful ones is out on a mission, for us, at the moment. Or I'm sure most of you know that Keayalnea has only had full use of her wings for a few weeks? I don't care what your anger toward them is based on, end it immediately. This meeting is over."

[A/N- for all of you who want to know how I'm going to make Harry & Co. miss that, it was during _his_ little outburst. Neat trick, eh?]


	4. Councilling

_"If I could change I would_

_Take back the pain I would_

_Retrace every wrong move that I made I would_

_If I could stand up and take the blame I would_

_If I could take all the shame to the grave I would"_

_- Linkin Park, Easier to Run_

Keayalnea was too fed up with everything and everyone to run back to the Order and plead forgiveness. Not that she intended to plead it in the first place. The anger coursing through her was not unfamiliar, the shot, slam- bam thank you ma'am injections of smoldering, simmering self murderous rage that desired a punching bag, that drew every ounce of energy you had, for no particularly good reason. It dredged, burned, and faded with exhaustion, but she was not repentant and had no desire to return to the Headquarters and endure the smoldering rage, the distrust, the oppressive but silent subliminals that Alicianne had never felt, nor Sinia, just Tiyrn and herself. Get out, we've no need of you here. Perhaps it was because she knew she'd have been in Slytherin. Tiyrn would also. The cause was more worthwhile, fine, Gryffindors, whatever you say. But what is the cause if we do not exist to continue it? She stopped to lean on the railings of an industrial steel bridge, looking over the Thames. She could feel a presence behind her, but she didn't feel like turning, watching the moonlight play off the ripples below her. She could fall. It would solve a lot of heartache. It wouldn't create much more. She leaned forward slightly, inside her thoughts, and felt a hand grab her shoulder forcefully, not pushing nor pulling, just holding.

"Don't," his voice could shake her to the soul, but he didn't know that and she wasn't the one to tell him.

"Wasn't planning," her voice was quiet as she turned to look into his black eyes. "No intention. I know you have the same thoughts on a regular basis."

"They don't like me, either."

"No shit, really?" she regretted the harsh tone the instant she spoke it. An apology went through her mind, but she brushed it aside.

"Really. We with the cunning of the craft to do what they so need, they despise. They would take anyone except those from our house. They so despise it."

"It's all in misconception," she replied. "I feel so strangled here."

"You are. I know the part you wish to play in SphynxFyre's scheme, not just to implement it, but to be it, since you distrust Sinia..."

"Don't you? You are the only other soul who knows the full scheme. Can you trust her? Her heart and soul and body all belong to a piece of self indulged trash that Azkaban could not mature! She would not be in it for it, she'd be in it for him, and it's weakness in her! If I were to remove him, she would be worthless."

"He wants black blood."

"His first choice is black blood. He is more than willing to take mine if he can't get hers. If he can't use her fear, he'll take my greed. We know that for a fact." Her eyes locked with his. They had met under those circumstances.

"Go home, Keayalnea. Rest tonight, leave in the morning. I swear they won't trouble you."

"Should I believe you?"

"Why would I lie?"

And with that, he was gone. Her wings ruffled in the night breeze, and she turned her footsteps back to headquarters.


	5. Deadly Dancing

"It's none of my concern 

_Don't look to me because I don't believe in fame _

_I guess you never heard I've met our makers _

_They don't even know your name _

_But if I had to say goodbye to leave this hell _

_I'd say my time has served me well _

_I'm falling I'm falling _

_And now I'm in over my head _

_With something I said _

_Completely misread I'm better off dead _

_And now I see how fake you can be _

_This hypocrisy's beginning to get to me"_

_- Sum 41, Over My Head_

Keayalnea walked in through the front door, well past one in the morning. Everyone was asleep, and for that, she was glad. She couldn't handle Molly's sideways glances or Alastor's eye following her around the room. Not tonight, she'd go off again. She lay down on the couch to get some sleep, planning on leaving early in the morning to go back to her work. It was as important to her personally as it was to SphynxFyre. Her mother had spent four years fighting a curse she didn't even know existed. Keayalnea felt honored. She'd spent more time with her mother than any other Sorcerer had this century. Yet she didn't remember her. She knew what she looked like, but didn't harbor any childhood memories of her. She'd been four when Histalni had left. Maybe this one woman had changed her life more than she'd ever known. And she was still alive. That was all she knew of the woman who had changed her mind. The Sorceress, her mother, who had _left_ her Savior. The punishment was severe- she'd lost her wings for it. The world's first Silver- Blood Sorceress, to lose her wings, the bane of a Sorcerer's existence, the mark of Sorcery Blood, the most marvelous appendages they owned. The good and the bad came from a pair of wings on the back of a Sorcerer. Her mother had given up her status for her, and her sister's sake. Love was never an emotion she remembered feeling, not even toward Histalni, but upon remembering her actions and trying to envision herself doing the same, a lump gathered in her stomach that she had no name for. And maybe that was why, thirteen years ago, she had denied Voldemort his request. She'd wanted nothing more at the time- the opportunity, the power, the security. But she'd known her parentage. She'd learned the story. She knew her options, and what was life if she, of her race, was the only one to live?

She had denied him, and paid dearly for it. But logic stated that she would do it again. She was prepared to die for the cause she had taken. She'd lived her life planning for it. After all, everyone died. But she knew she would die. She was born knowing how. It was her only memory of your mother. _"Why are you crying, bitch? You want sympathy? You want love? Tough shit- no one will love you until you kill your father. No one will love you until you're dead, babe. Love isn't real."_ Once again she was reminded. The words burned into her skull, the only thing she could remember of a childhood. Love. Whatever. The words had built her, had shaped her, and she was the product of the broken heart of a lost sheep. Angry and unbelieving. She closed her eyes and dug her face into her feathers. It hit her like a ton of bricks- that admonition was the only truth she knew. Those words. 

She believed them.

***

She woke suddenly at the crash on the door. She sat bolt upright, instantly awake. She pulled off the couch and walked toward the front door, the banging growing insistently louder. Cracks were forming in the wood. _Can no one else hear this?_ she wasn't sure what to do. Someone was trying to get in the Order. She walked up to the door, putting one hand on the knob, silently unlocking it. All her anger- at Alastor, Dumbledore, Molly, her position as royal guard dog, herself, her mother, boiled into a rage and her eyes began to acquire a murderous red tint. Someone was trying to get in. The banging stopped as the attacker felt the wood growing smoldering hot, smoke coming out of the damaged planks. That was Keayalnea's cue.

She slammed the door open with a sudden and abrupt beginning to the tidal wave crashing through her. The hooded and cloaked figure looked at her suddenly, and stepped back, but too slowly, for she had already spun, catching him in the neck with her wing, catching him off balance. She walked in, forcefully, and made to smack him in the face, but he'd regained his composure and caught her hand with the side of his wrist. She grinned and, using her Vision, found the Dark Mark on his arm, triggering it to glow red with pain. The Death Eater wailed in pain, but stayed to continue his battle, barely missing being kicked in the chest by Keayalnea's foot. He caught it, trying to spin her off balance, but using her wings for support, she flew up and caught him with her other foot, forcing him to release his grasp. He didn't have time to grasp hold of his wand, so he bit his lip and spun in to attack, using everything he knew of Sorcery dueling. His father had not schooled him well in the subject. Sorceresses were still breeding stock back then. 

She was shocked that he knew the technique, not that he sucked royally. Reflexes, yes, he could keep up with her, but her power was something no wizard could ever match, with or without the aid of a wand. The hood spun back, and Lucius's blue eyes locked with hers, ice and fire. She'd always known the two of them could have been equals, if opposites.

"Lucius, what brings you here?" she asked idly, as the dueling brought both of them to a deadlock.

"I could ask the same of you, Kea. You never told me you had wings."

"You never needed to know." With that, she flung them forward, blinding him momentarily as she backed up for another attack.

"Just wait until I bring you to my Lord," he grinned wickedly.

"We've met, I assure you," she smiled quietly. Voldemort would not like thinking that Lucius Malfoy could tap into the strengths and mind of a White Blooded Sorceress, or that she could reach into his.

"Oh yes, I nearly forgot," in a odd chance of the wandless dance they were making, she was backed against the wall, his body pressed against hers, and in a moment's weakness, he kissed her roughly. He heard her laugh resounding around his ears as the entire world was swept away in a blur, the Dark Mark tearing into his flesh. But he was in nowhere, in heaven, in hell. 

He was sliding.


	6. Spilt Blood Saved

[A/N- alright, so no one asks me how the heck Sorcerers throw curses, they do it using their hands as their wands, altering the number of fingers used to the strength and detail they requite in the curse. Think Dragon Ball Z, if you've seen it. I love this chapter. *grins*]

_"This is evolution-_

_The monkey, the man, and then the gun._

_If Christ was in Texas-_

_The hammer, the sickle, the only son._

_This is your creation-_

_The Adam of Eden was a bomb._

If Jack was a Baptist- 

_We'd drink the wine from his head."_

_- Marilyn Manson, Cruci- Fiction in Space_

Keayalnea felt herself pulled out of the slide, her head slammed into a flat piece of stone. Lucius was flung from her arms, unconscious, in another direction. She pushed herself to her hands and knees, leaning back on her heels. Her head cleared slowly, and she wiped the blood out of her eyes, standing slowly. She looked around carefully. Her head had bashed against a tombstone, neatly cracking it through the center. She shook her head, trying to clear her vision. Where was she?

The curse came out of nowhere.

The Cruciatus curse hit her square in the shoulder, glowing red as Keayalnea roared in pain, heaving fire in the direction the voice. She barely fell backward quick enough to miss the various curses thrown in her direction. Death Eaters. Her smile looked like a carbon copy of her father's, cold and cruel. She jumped up, ripping a hand sideways to bowl over a half dozen of the black- robed fools. It was simply a trap to capture her. She laughed out loud, as she leapt delicately to miss a heavy bolt of the Imperius curse. Intelligent, whoever threw that. She gave her wings a powerful downsweep, to get altitude, then wheeled around to fit the nearest one in the chest with her feet, using her momentum to flip backwards, landing on her toes. She'd conjured her sword to her side, an extension of herself, her wand, in a way, when she was creating magic strong enough to require one. Using it, she blocked a good dozen curses thrown at her in different directions, almost simultaneously. Then, walking in her direction, was a death eater with his own. Strong wizard. She smiled wickedly, she recognized the sword. He'd failed to warn her of this. But maybe he hadn't known.

_What a play we are staging,_ she smiled wickedly, wondering how she'd manage to preserve his hide, without becoming suspicious. Occlumancy would help her none- there was no wizard who could sort through the mind of a Sorceress. They were to complex. She raised her sword up to the ready, challenging him, then swung widely, testingly. He deflected it easily, then jabbed toward her gut, which she flipped over, landing behind him. They paced around each other like angry dogs, swords pushing at the center. Red tinged irises met cold black ones. A game of survival, in more ways than one.

"That cloak will slow you down, Severus," she purred.

"So will your wings."

"You'd be surprised," she smiled, flaring them out and pushing for an angle.

All the sudden, Severus wheeled around and barely caught her blow as it came from above his head. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to remember how she had trained him. He'd seen Keayalnea and Sinia going through the quick- paced dance of blood- dueling one afternoon, and Keayalnea had noticed his interest. Even though they did not get along well in public, they shared an uneasy friendship, throwing cutting remarks and helping hands whenever necessary. Her voice 

filled his memory. _"You feel it. You will never have the reflexes to see it."_ He closed his eyes and swung.

It was, all the sudden, much more fast paced, and she grinned quietly as he pushed through the paces and motions she'd taught him. For being an older, slower wizard, he'd done rather well in the art. She decided to throw him a loop, and conjured her second sword, swinging toward him in a spiral manner. She could see his mental confusion, then a slight shrug as he pulled a second one out of the air as he copied the moves as she was enacting them, the fastest, the only way to learn. 

Suddenly, the two were so entangled in each other's swords that there was no way one could move without the other striking. She was so close to him as to feel his breath, to see each drop of sweat. She smiled cruelly. Now was not the time to congratulate him- besides, she still had something to teach him. She mentally bent her swords around his, merging them slightly to hold their grip. They'd vaporize when she let go. She inhaled sharply, causing Snape to raise an eyebrow, flared her  wings open, and downswept- _hard_. She rolled backwards on the ground, throwing Snape over her on the ground, struggling, not fast enough to let go. She stood quickly and swung him over the tree line, seeing the glowing rainbow of his aura pop out of sight mid- air. She grinned. Let the fun begin. 

A few more death eaters advanced on her, and building up a ball of red flame, she hurled the most powerful Cruciatus curse she could at them. A green slice of Avada Kedavra hit her in the wing, singeing a few feathers, she groaned in pain, barely catching the scream out of her throat. A poisonous violet light poured out of her fingertips, and she flung it in the death eater's direction, clasping her fist around the curse as it reached him and swinging her arm toward the nearest group, flinging him screaming in their direction. They scattered, and the death eater swung head first into a large tombstone. Keayalnea loosened her hold as she doubled over in pain from a multitude of curses hitting her in a number of places.

"I. HATE. APPARATING!" she roared as a loud bam rocked the ground, causing a scorch mark for ten feet around where Kea had stood.

***

Kea crashed into the second floor of Grimmauld Place, barely being able to control her landing. Apparation was not done regularly by Sorcery for a good reason. She landed face first, splintering the wood floor as she fell, one bad splinter barely missing her eye. She bit her knuckles until blood flowed, trying to stem herself from screaming, her eyes clenched to ward tears. Her breath was ragged and forced. As she faded from consciousness, Mrs. Black raged at her from her portrait.

_"FILTH! FILTH! FOULING THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS WITH YOUR PUTRID STENCH AND FOUL BLOOD! GO BACK TO THE STABLES AND BEAR PROGENY FOR THOSE FIT TO RAISE THEM, YOU AMBITIOUS, WORTHLESS WHORE! GO BACK WHERE YOU AND YOUR KIND SHOULD BE, NOT IN MY ANCESTOR'S HOUSE STEALING THE HONOR OF MY SONS! GO BACK WHERE YOU CAME FROM! GO BACK, YOU BITCH IN HEAT, TO YOUR MASTER WHERE YOU BELONG! LOWER THAN DIRT, VILER THAN SHIT, DIRTY THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS NO MORE! NO MORE! SCUM! VILE BLOOD! FILTH!"_


	7. Then There Were Two

_"So where were you_

_In all this I was going through_

_You never took the time to ask me just what you could do._

I only know that I can change 

_Everything else just stays the same_

_So now I step out of the darkness that my life became cuz_

_I just needed someone to talk to _

_You were just to busy with yourself_

_You were never there for me to express how I felt_

_Now I'm old and rent I feel like I could let some of this anger fade_

_But it seems to surface I am crashing in the bed that I have made."_

_- Staind, Fade_

Keayalnea's eyes opened slowly, and her instant wish was that she could shut them again, hide back in her oblivion. Every bone, every tissue, every fiber of her being hurt. In the pitch darkness of night, she couldn't see what was wrong, or who was there. A small whimper passed through her lips before she could catch it, and she lay there, wrapped in her own pain and her own nightmares, not cringing, for there was nowhere to hide. A hand appeared in the darkness and delicately touched her cheek, moving across her forehead towards the other.

"I was afraid the fever wouldn't break," he admitted. "I didn't know what curse to treat."

"It doesn't matter," her voice was hoarse. "What do they know?"

"Voldemort knows now not to take you by force," he chuckled slightly. "He wasn't happy about it."

"And you?"

"I'll be fine. You need to teach me those tricks."

"I already did. I told you it was all a projection of the mind."

The door creaked open and Severus quickly pulled his hand away, just before light from the hall fell on Keayalnea's face, causing her to wince in pain. Her eyes couldn't handle so much light.

"Sorry," Sinia closed the door behind her. "Thought you might like to know, Keayalnea, I've been checking for the last couple of days..."

"Know what?" she was being snappish.

"Tiyrn's dead. Otherwise we wouldn't have had Severus caring for you." The cold tones were astonishing. "Alicianne went with him."

"And then there were two..." Kea pursed her lips, turning her face to the wall. "Thank you, Sinia, you can go."

With that, Sinia left. She didn't dare the woman's temper with any more words.

"Do you need anything?" Snape asked hesitantly.

"Just leave, please," she shook her head, pleading silently.

"Call me if you need me," he stood, and walked out.

Keayalnea laid still for a moment, listening to the dying footsteps. She sat up slowly, numbly, and threw her legs over the bed, bracing herself to stand. Her legs had difficulty holding her weight, and that infuriated her more. She slammed her foot down on the floor, as though that action would give her back her physical self control. As though that action would give her back Tiyrn and Alicianne. The two were Saved by each other- a rarity is Sorcery culture- and Tiyrn had died on Dumbledore's mission, no doubt, and, and, and, she slammed the potions and ornaments off the bedside table in a fit of rage, the cuts momentarily easing the hurt and the anger. But she wasn't done yet. She was fed up. Fed up. FED UP with the Order of the Phoenix, slaughtering her Fyre, her race, one at a time. There were two. There were two. No more. No less. Nothing....

***

Severus ran into the room Keayalnea had been staying in, his boots crunching on broken glass as he opened the door, he didn't have time to comprehend as the nightstand smashed into the far wall. That was all he needed. He grabbed Keayalnea by the shoulders, wrestling her back onto the bed, battling her before she hurt herself.

"Keayalnea, look at me, _Keayalnea_," he grabbed her face in his hands. She was burning up with fever again. "There is nothing anyone could have done. _Nothing._ I swear-"

"They trusted me," it came out as a strangled sob, half screamed, the anger and grief tearing through every strength she owned. "They trusted me with their lives and I led them to trust vermin. To trust in nothing! And now we're all going to die for it, because I was too stupid-" she buried her face to the side, contorting it fiercely to fight the tears that so wanted to spill. _"Never cry! Never! Do you understand me? Do you understand me?!"_ the words rang through her head. She felt Severus gather her into his chest, resting his head on her own. No words. He knew better than to try to say anything, and she knew better than to cry as she leaned her head against his heartbeat, numbing in the light of the vast gray emptiness inside of her. Later, when he left, she would bang her forehead methodically against the wall in light of her unexpressed and unexplainable grief, and he knew that. But for now, while he could, he could seek to solace her by believing she wasn't alone. Or was he really solacing himself?


	8. Fyre Maker

[A/N- this was written to Linkin Park's 'Session' (#12 on Meteora) if anyone's curious what the Sphynx's song is. Now you know. And, by the way, welcome to my personal plot twist. I like it.]

_My warning meant nothing._

_You're dancing in quicksand._

_Why don't you watch where you're wandering?_

_Why don't you watch where you're stumbling?_

_You're wading knee deep and going in._

_And you may never come back again._

_-Tool, Swamp Song_

Kea was in murderous determination, walking through the most dangerous streets of London, unafraid. Inside her stone face her mind went a thousand ways at once. How to reformulate her plans, her schemes, her grand motion that was life, death, and a third lung. She wasn't paying attention, and eventually came to a part of town that she didn't know. The buildings were crumbled and abandoned, and a haunting song pierced the air. She looked around, giving no sign of confusion or concern. 

"Going somewhere?" the voice was syrupy, sultry, menacing and mundane, fragile and authoritative. Keayalnea turned to face the voice, and saw a lonely figure sitting on an abandoned picnic table, the tattered remains of an umbrella fluttering about her. Deep black hair trailed loose down her back, entwining itself in her vibrant, metallic blue wings. Her skin was cream and ivory, flawless, her lips full and eyes almond. Black eyes, with vibrant blue irises, and no discernable pupils. They were emotionless and loving, simultaneously. Keayalnea reached out to feel for an aura about her, and found nothing. No color, just energy, vibrant and clear, pouring off of her. The lone Sorceress stood, the low cut, graceful satin gown enveloping her figure in a black shroud of seduction. A conundrum was all that Keayalnea could call her. She was awkward, graceful, breathtaking, repulsive, enraged and calm. Kea's wings fluttered slightly as the sorceress walked toward her, their eyes locked, icy blue against a blazing gold, and the contrasts went beyond their appearances. The air between them fizzed and cracked with tension and magic, signifying a very deep personality difference that would never truly be mended. This woman reminded her dangerously of Sinia....

"As time passes, the fates have chosen a different road for your sister than I would have intended. I should be thankful, that of the two of you, you are at least suitable."

"Suitable?"

"You are the Zenith, so afraid of Salvation that when it looks you in the face you are blind to it."

"I will die, in time. No need to concern myself with salvation."

"That is what I hoped your sister would come to see. Mortals believe that love is necessary, you know."

"Who are you?"

"I am the Sphynx, that gave you the Fyre." Her smile was edged, cunning. Calculating. "I am the sole source of power in all blood, white, black, and wizard alike. I am eternity. The maker. The truth. The wise."

"And what want you with me?"

Fingernails, sharp and dagger like, traced Keayalnea's jawbone as the Sphynx reached to brush her hair out of her eyes. "Everything..." it was almost seductive. She turned abruptly and walked away. "I suggest you follow me. There is no other path to take."


	9. Genesis and Revelation

_"When I first appear I seem mysterious…_

_When I first appear I seem delirious…"_

_-Into the Woods, the Baker's Father_

"Where are we?" Fear and awe were not in Keayalnea's emotional repertoire. Respect, grudgingly, but to be intimidated by the Sphynx was a dangerous game, and she chose not to play. The menacing techno- drum piece had been slamming in the background for the whole of her stay, and Keayalnea's curiosity was getting the better of her.

"We are in the world that you are creating." The Sphynx had, thus far, been free with her knowledge. Cryptic, but free. She seemed a wall of emotional ice.

"I, myself?"

"Your actions influence fate as much as anyone else's. If Tom Riddle's father had accepted him, we would not be here. You and Sinia may not exist. One man throws his trash on the roadside, and because of that one man, ten more do so. That is why you are here, to be singularly responsible for your actions, and to aid in the fall of Voldemort. Fate has decreed vengeance for someone other than yourself, but that will not occur without your presence." The Sphynx stopped to face her. "You have no option in this path I am giving you. You are training to die without honor. If you survive, your personality will be completely destroyed, and you will often as not wish you were dead to begin with."

"If any being concerned themselves over my existence, I might have second thoughts," Keayalnea continued walking. "Will our Blood survive?"

"Only if you do."

"And you yourself?"

"I am immortal. Time cannot destroy me."

"Why could you not do this?"

"One must see truth to see me. That is why sorcery was created, so that there has always been a link between Life, Truth, and Fate. And you have been abused as the truth is. I need you to do this."

"You would sever your link for this?"

"A thousand times over. It is worth the cost."

They walked in silence for a moment.

"Why is it worth such a price?"

"Voldemort has the power to destroy me."

"You said you are immortal."

""I am the vestige of truth, Keayalnea Nikonde. Ethics. Honor. My sister is the vestige of knowledge, if that is what you seek.  Voldemort has the potential to erase my existence from your world. To isolate me completely. And, like you, that is something I cannot abide. Like you, that is a fate I refuse."

Keayalnea nodded, and they continued their silent walk through the deserted streets and eerie music.

"What is this music?"

"Do you know what others experience when you are spellcasting?"

"That's not an answer."

"I am trying to explain. Do you?"

"No."

"The song of your initiation is a song of yourself. It is your own personal magical signature, so to speak. Depending on the strength of the spell cast, it is heard, to varying degrees. "

"What spell are you casting?"

"None. My magical signature is so strong that it registers in your mind. Your ears really aren't hearing anything."

"So…" Keayalnea struggled to grasp the concept. "The prophecy is right?"

"Prophecy? The prophecy, as you put it, is nothing but a century of rubbish designed to make you and I capable of speaking to each other. You are in a world of my invention, but the only spell I have cast is the one that brought you here. You can do this as well."

"What do you mean?"

"Project a spell without speaking, without moving. To have so much power that every magical, and some non magical, within range can hear you in their mind, not as a feeling or an indistinct murmur, but as you do mine, definitively. I will transcend you from the Zenith to the second Sphynx."

"The Sphynx creates the Zenith creates the Fyre."

"The second Sphynx douses the flames. If I can I will make you as cold and unemotional as myself. But I'd settle to make you murderous."

"Murderous?"

"Your kind is too sentimental for their own good. You don't desire existence, you beg it. Everything you do is an apology. Your song has so much emotional pain in it that I almost missed the determination. The time of grief is over. You will never receive your apology, and you will never be accepted as equal, so you may as well be superior. 

Keayalnea nodded. "Tell me what to do."


	10. Deja Vu Damnation

[A/N: Keayalnea did not want to tell me this one. I hope you enjoy it anyway. The fur… feathers… will fly.]

_"__I am nothing no one nobody no more  
These are her mountains and skies and she radiates  
And through history's rivers of blood she regenerates  
And like the sun disappears only to reappear  
Maria she's eternally here  
Her time is near  
Never conquered but here"_

_- Rage Against the Machine, Maria_

Something had seemed wrong all morning. It was still morning. It was very much still morning. Maybe it was the fact that he had spent the night under the same roof as Sirius Black. That could have something to do with it. Maybe it was the fact that Dumbledore was nowhere to be seen, and they had a meeting in two hours. That could also have something to do with it. He hadn't eaten anything since he got here. That could have something to do with it. 

He really didn't trust the bathroom here, and it seemed extremely indecent to go outside. That probably had a lot to do with it.

So he sat quietly on the couch, contemplative. A fleeting smile passed over his features, and it was malicious to anyone who did not know him well. She did, and a soft smile flitted over her features before they froze again. She shut the door quietly behind her, watching his face for any sign of recognition, acknowledgement. Deep in her subconscious, she craved his companionship in the lonely road she would soon take. She could not admit that openly, and in the darkness of the predawn twilight, before anyone, or anything, outside of the damned and the damned at heart stirred, she could look on him with a softness that had been reserved for only two other souls in her life. He was exquisite in his pain and dignity. Carved of onyx and ivory, smooth and flawed and burning at the touch. To lock horns with him was almost a sexual euphoria. She missed it. She missed the quiet moments where they had held each other up, lost in the storm of their own making. When no one was looking. They were close. Why the intimacy evaporated in public light, she could not answer. Her downfall could very well be the incapability to let him go.

"I will die loving you," the thought was so strong it articulated itself, almost noiselessly, before she could stop it. Either from the strength of the thought, or the near silent ripples of her words, he turned to look in her direction, rising.

"Keayalnea…" he stepped forward, reaching to her, but she held a hand to ward him away.

"Don't touch me- I'm not the same," she feared breaking down at physical contact with this man. Her mind was spinning. Love? What had possessed her to use that word?…

"You look as though you found some well deserved rest over the course of the past months." _Why so distant?_

"I've not seen myself since long before I left."

"Why did you return?"

"I don't know."

"The most foolish of reasons."

"I'm allowed." The statement was final, her voice quieter, yet more authoritive and velvet than when she'd left. "I could ask the same of you."

"After you left, they sent scouts looking for you. They thought you'd make good on your threats, to destroy the Order. He wouldn't let me go. I looked anyway." He drew a long white flight feather out of his robes, slightly disheveled, but intact. "I feared for you." He moved as though to give her the feather back.

She stopped herself from taking his hand in hers. "You needn't ever fear for me again. Keep it." She paused, searching for words. "Keep it, and promise me that, no matter what happens, you will not get in the way."

"Such melodramatics from such a small person."

"I have a right. Promise me."

"Why does it mean anything?"

"Promise."

"I can promise you nothing," his voice was so close it came to her in bittersweet kisses, "until I know the exact terms of my bondage. Therefore I promise you, should anything happen," he smirked as icing to the sarcasm, "I will not get in the way. But I hold the stipulation that, no matter what, I will act as I see fit, as we have proven the lack of validity in your judgment time and again."

"Fair enough," she closed her eyes in acceptance of the blow. Should she dip to her sarcastic banter with him, things would take on an air of normalcy. And things could not be normal between them. She had chosen her path, but he could not walk it. "I leave you decision over your own fate. Do not presume to control mine."

"You remind me every few seconds that it is your own," he drawled, stepping back. "Shower, and get some fresh clothes. I will inform them to expect your presence at the meeting this morning."

"When?"

"Two hours hence. Provided that Albus concurs to grace us with his presence."

***

Keayalnea stepped into the bathroom, quietly shutting the door behind her. She looked around, quietly, analytically, at what had once seemed the most peaceful room of the house. Her hands quietly and methodically locked the door behind her, several small spells sliding off of her hands and into the wood during the process. She'd laid a fresh pair of clothes, and made sure everyone was asleep. At six in the morning, no one was really inclined to be up. Snape had resumed his meditation. She walked toward the center of the light, tiled room, chilly and dark, not foreboding, but oppressing and gray. She unzipped her blouse, and then reached behind her to undo the clasps that held the slits for her wings together, pulling the whole ensemble off her back and over her head. She finished undressing herself, tossing the discarded items into a corner, quite assured that Kreacher, upon finding them, would unceremoniously toss them out.

It was then she noticed the mirror.

She hadn't looked at her own reflection since before she'd left- the only mirrors in the Sphynx's world were her eyes, and Keayalnea had been far too busy watching those eyes to notice her reflection. It was past Christmas. Her skin had paled, her freckles and scars almost comical in their prominence- even the older scars had red rings and violet undertones, the freckles that brushed her cheekbones having darkened and multiplied. Her skin was almost yellow. Her wings shone gold even in the pale light, surreal in and of themselves. Her hair had darkened, from a fire red to that of dying embers, stringy now, and coated in fallen leaves and grime. Her irises had darkened as well, to an orange- bronze texture, the whites muddied and slightly red. She'd lost what looked like thirty pounds, her face being terribly sunken and every rib accounted for. She'd once been very proud of her figure, her looks. Studying herself in the mirror, it didn't seem nearly as important, and she absently marked the change others would berate her for. No big deal.

She stepped into the shower, letting the hot water scald and purify her in her own little ritual she'd been denied for months. She scrubbed the Sphynx's world vigorously off her skin, out of her hair, but she was still thin, still change. Still unlike herself. She leaned against the wall momentarily, taking a deep breath. She had scarcely been sustained in living, and her will was nearly crushed. She was furious, at the Sphynx, now, for tearing her into someone who was not really herself, this bundle of anger and pain, however necessary it may have been. She shut the water off vindictively, and shook her wings and head, drying both sections of her anatomy instantly, and drying her torso and legs with a quick sweep of her hands, repelling the water as though she were a duck.

She opened the shower door and stepped into the slightly fogged bathroom, her eyes darting almost instantly to the dark figure standing in front of the closed door. She shut the shower door behind her, her eyes never leaving him. He quietly noted that she made no move to cover herself, nor seemed in any way embarrassed by the predicament she was in.

"I locked that door," she stated questioningly.

"I know," he replied.

"Why are you in here?"

In reply, he slowly walked forward. Her wings spread slightly in an instinctive defensiveness, but she made no move, nor said anything, to stop his progress. He was inches from her when he stopped, his eyes boring into hers, and vice versa. His eyes burned with something she couldn't quite place. It wasn't lust, it wasn't anger. He bit back the urge to slap her in the face for her cold, antagonizing study of him. His expression softened slightly as his gaze dropped to the long- gone scar that followed her jugular, now looking fresh and raw. He traced it gently with his fingertips, continuing the motion from one scar to another. He leaned in to kiss her, and she pulled away, startled.

"Thou shalt not," she growled, and the anger in her eyes and voice snapped something in him.

Without a word, he slammed her back into the shower door, pressing himself against her, his mouth demanding of hers sensations and responses she'd never known existed. A strangled moan escaped her, and he chuckled slightly, moving back till he wasn't an inch away from her face, his hair forming a halo around the two of them.

"You go, girl," he whispered, his voice catching in his throat, "and tell whatever force that has laid claim on you, that there is nothing they can do to you, that I cannot undo."

With that, he turned and walked out the door, closing it behind him as he continued walking toward the kitchen, almost terrified to know where that drive in him had come from- and why would he want to go back in there and finish what he had started?

At the same time, Keayalnea dressed quickly, and sunk to the floor, almost as though shielding herself from unseen force that threatened from above.


	11. Anarchy

[A/N: Yes, I do short.]

Keayalnea refused, absolutely refused, to be intimidated by just, whatever the hell… had happened. She smacked herself in the jaw, full force, for that thought. 

_Get over it, get it done. There are more important things than what you want, dammit!_

She was a few minutes later than everyone else walking into the meeting, and knew that she could not just slide quietly into her accustomed position, but would be bombarded by every person there, none of whom, she assumed, realized she had come back. She would rather have skipped the entire thing, but the formality of it was inescapable. The plans had changed, and they needed to know that. She opened the door as little as possible, and slid through the opening, quietly as physically possible, and, in force of habit, shut the door with her back to it. Everyone was just taking their seats, but Albus was looking straight at her with a piercing gaze she'd never seen him use before. She looked back at him with as much impartiality as she could muster, she didn't move, realizing that they'd been holding gazes for quite some time and that every other person in the room was gawking at her. She was not moved to comment. Maybe that was the most surprising thing.

Albus walked over to her, grabbing her jaw and pushing her lip upwards, much as one would check the teeth of a horse. She pulled her head forcefully to the side, glaring at him, lips clamped shut. 

"So that's where you've been," Albus's quiet voice was sharp with fury. "Do you realize that I cannot fix that?"

"Whoever said it needed to be?" Keayalnea's voice was near a whisper, uncertain of herself in the situation, but infuriated at his meddlesome, patronizing role in her life.

"I, for one," Albus replied, stepping back slightly. "I'm loathe to place you in the battle lines against Voldemort, Keayalnea. Marked by the Sphynx I will allow you nowhere near him."

"How do you propose to stop me? Sinia has none of the personality traits required to see this through."

"Yes she does. She's _loyal_."

"And weak willed, or have you not noticed how she clings to Black's every word without thought of herself?"

"Selflessness," Albus turned to walk to his chair. "Can be considered a strength."

"Then why have you never seen my own?"

"You are far too difficult for me to waste five words complimenting you, let alone trying to convince you I would."

"Thank you," she leaned back against the door and crossed her arms. "I figured I'd inform you myself that the plans have changed."

"Of course they have. You wrote them."

"I'm seeking him out in July."

"No," Albus's head snapped up at the word. "You will not."

"I repeat: how do you propose to stop me?"

"By any means necessary or in my power to do so."

He stood, pulling back the sleeves of his cloak. "It has been a long time since I drew the Sphynx out of a sorceress…"

"You touch me and you die," each word was accented heavily, her small frame almost invisibly pressing against the door. 

"Maybe, her replied, pointing his wand in her direction.

With an earth shattering thunder, the Sphynx appeared directly in front of Keayalnea, metallic blue wings splintering the wood of the ceiling and the plaster of the walls in their full spread, the look on her face taunting Albus to cast anything similar to a spell.

"Albus," the name was enunciated heavily, soft and dangerous. "I'm afraid we have met one time too many for my pleasure."

Behind her, hidden from view, Keayalnea let out a small sigh, her fear draining slowly.

With that, the Sphynx folded her wings and stepped forward, slowly and deliberately, in his direction, clearly with murder in mind.

"No!" Severus launched himself at her, trying to stop her impending assault on the headmaster, and she gripped him by the shoulder and slung him across the room, watching him crash into the wall with a satisfied smirk, and began walking in his direction. 

"_Petrificus totalus!_" chanted Alastor, but the spell reverberated back and he fell face first in his own body bind. Keayalnea could recognize the minute signs of blind panic in Severus's face. Spotting her chance, she balled her hand into a fist, yanking it straight down.

The Sphynx crashed to her knees in the cherry wood floor. And Keayalnea, although she knew she would pay dearly for this, understood quite well that she would do it again.

"All right, then," she stood, facing Keayalnea, "we'll deal with you."

How she did it, Keayalnea would never be able to explain, but as the Sphynx slung her face first toward the far wall, she just flung out her wings and…

_stopped._

She spun as quickly as she could, nose grazing the wallpaper, and found herself locking arms with the Sphynx, caught in a battle of wills she hadn't dared attempted before, when all the sudden she disappeared.

Keayalnea found herself inexplicably yanked toward the doorway, and she spun, flaring her wings so she was caught, like a fishing hook in a tree limb, in the doorway.

Her eyes landed on Severus, who was shaking his head slightly in fear. For her? She didn't know.

"Good bye," she breathed, before she lost her hold and disappeared.

Severus was almost too stunned to notice that everything in the room was restored exactly. For that is how the truth is- it comes in an explosion of energy, but never changes anything permanently, for it was already there.


	12. The Split

Keayalnea felt her back slam against a wall she couldn't even see. Everything was white white white white white…..

She crumpled to the floor and, slapping herself in the face, forced herself to stand, far too slow to block the curse that flipped her sideways several times, blood pouring down her face from her nose and mouth, her teeth stained a hideous red. 

"ENOUGH!" the roar came, and all the sudden, Keayalnea found herself sitting in a kitchen chair at home, wounds bandaged, the warm kitchen light glowing and the tea kettle whistling shrilly.

She looked around to find a graceful woman pulling the kettle off the stove, pouring two cups, adding the bags and spoons. She sat one before Keayalnea, smiling lightly at her. "Drink it, you'll feel better. Sugar? Of course. Two lumps, the way you like it."

"I'd prefer coffee."  
"And I can't stand the smell of it."

"And who the fuck are you to pull me out of wherever the hell I was to take me into my own house and boss me around?!" Keayalnea roared, patience having run out.

"Drink your tea," the visitor sat in the chair across from her. "She would have killed you for your display, and I am not ready to see you dead yet. She isn't either. But she can't admit her own truths. It's why she's such a pain in the ass."

"The Sphynx?"

"My sister," the woman sipped her tea, "is one of those rare and exceedingly testy individuals that you wish, after the fact, you had never known existed."

"I don't understand." Keayalnea stared into her mug for a moment, before gulping down most of the contents.

"No, of course you wouldn't." She gulped another swig of tea, and glanced at Keayalnea thoughtfully. "The funny thing about the truth is that you can't explain it, as it is different to every soul, and no true solitary truth exists about anything. What you need now is not truth," she sipped her tea again as Keayalnea's head shot up. "You need knowledge."

"And that's where you come in?" Keayalnea resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"I worked forever on that riddle. It was _fucking brilliant," she hissed, leaning forward and revealing canines much like those of a cat. "And here comes along this smartass sunova bitch to tear it all away from me. My best was nowhere near good enough. There's a truth for you." She leaned back in the chair, smirking. "It took him four days, but he got it. I was so embarrassed. Shamed- I couldn't face my siblings again, my mother, so…"_

"I know the story, Sphinx."

"Do you?" she quizzed Keayalnea with her eyes. "The rock I landed on split me in half. My consciousness suddenly split, and I was facing this woman, this cold hearted bloodthirsty bitch who was hellbent to know something true. Something _real_. She thinks the truth is real." She laughed halfheartedly. "It took me forever to realize that she was once who I was. I think she cursed Oedipus. I'm not sure."

"Then what are you?"

"I am the goddess of a religion followed with more vigor than any other, which has no name." She turned to face the wall. "If knowledge is power, and absolute power corrupts absolutely, then I shall never be forgiven for the things I have done."

"The split was truth and knowledge?"

"Exactly," the Sphinx whirled to lean over the table, her face inches from Keayalnea's. "And the sad part is that you do not even fully understand the difference."

"No, I don't," she replied, unfazed.

"When Heracles severed the Hydra's heads, he completely ignored them, and they sunk into the bowels of the earth, and sprung up, a sevenday and six nights later, decaying, soulless, bodiless, and robed only in thick black canvas shrouding. You call them dementors. They are all that remain of my sister."

"Horseshit."

"No, knowledge. Truth, because it is fact. Echidna and Typhon had six children- the Nemean Lion, Cerberus, Ladon, Chimera, Hydra, and myself. When the Sphinx cast herself from the rocks, the Sphynx was created. When the Hydra lost her heads, the dementors came to be. The Sphynx had a daughter, and I raised her. Her name was Theisla Nahei."

Keayalnea stared at her, stunned.

"I know you want me to tell you it's not true, but it is a fact, and you cannot deny it."

"Then it's truth."

"No," the Sphinx smiled slightly, shaking her head. "The truth is that you will give your life freely to save Severus Snape's."

"You don't know me well," Keayalnea's face hardened instantly.

"Quite the contrary," the Sphinx's smile broadened. "It's true, and you know it's true, but you cannot admit it even to yourself. The truth comes to us at great cost, whereas knowledge is free- it is the use of it that we pay for."

Keayalnea nodded, understanding. "So it costs you nothing to know how I like my tea-"

"And that you like coffee better."

"So how can you pay for the use of that knowledge?"

"Simple things. The fact that I knew how you liked your tea put you more on the defensive against me than any aspect of my appearance, or anything that I have told you today. Had I misjudged you, you would have either cowed fully or risen against me violently."

"Like you said, knowledge is power."

"And you will need every bit of it you can get your hands on. It will come down to that, you know."  
"What?"

"Raw power. And there is a strength in the truth, as there is a strength in knowledge, as there is a strength in things that I have yet to fully understand. You will be forced to decide what you stand for, and what, specifically, you will draw your power from."

"Why does it matter?"

"You'll have no choice over whether he lives or dies, Keayalnea. Trust me there. Your only choice will be whether you stand there or take action."

"He is not dying while there is breath in my body."

"Then the decision has been made."

"What decision?"

"One that you will never understand, until he does the same for you. It is an unthinking reaction. Emotion, if you will."

She looked up suddenly, as if hearing a bad omen. "I'll be brief, my time here is up. Firstly, Keayalnea Nikonde, you need bow to the power of no being for the rest of your life- even the strongest iron breaks. This last thing is most important, and dare you not forget it."

"All right."

"She will never show you mercy, when you meet. And she is nothing you can imagine. But she is also nothing you cannot overpower."

With that, Keayalnea was alone in her kitchen.


End file.
